At breakfast the next morning, Ruby chirped in her gigantic cage while we drank mimosas and devoured fresh croissants with strawberries. I slid my foot under the table and touched Quinn’s ankle.
He stopped mid-bite and looked at me with his bedroom eyes. “Wanna go back to bed?”
I laughed. “Are you kidding? You wore me out last night.”
He grinned and poured me a cup of coffee. “Okay. Rain check?”
I nodded and patted his hand. “You bet. But we need to dress and get Ruby down to the show room.”
Ruby twittered on her swing. “Ruby’s hungry. Gimme cookies.”
“You’ve had your breakfast, young lady,” Quinn said. He wagged a finger at her. “And some extra special seeds, too. Don’t be greedy.” A seedpod hung from the cage. She’d been playing bob the apple with it all morning.
“You da man!”
Laughing, I got up and walked to her cage, poking my fingers through the bars to coax her to me. She hopped down and walked to my finger, then rubbed her neck up and down against it. “Aw. She’s such a sweetie.”
I looked past her to the edge of one of the parking lots that wrapped around the back of the wing. A white truck sat skewed on the asphalt at the end of the back row. “Hon?”
“Yeah?”
“Is that the same truck that left us in the dust yesterday?”
Quinn finished off his mimosa, popped the last bite of croissant in his mouth, and scraped back his chair. “Huh?”
“There. That white truck.”
Quinn studied it for a second. “I think you’re right.”
“I have half a mind to go find those cowboys and read them the riot act,” I said. “They blew right past us when we needed help. Idiots.” My anger flared.
“I know.” Quinn turned me toward him. “But would you really want to ride with such Neanderthals?” His eyes bored into mine with gentle patience.
A sigh escaped my lips. “I guess not. They probably smoke, anyway.” There was nothing I hated more than smoke. Except smokers.
“Yeah,” he said, “and the truck was probably littered with empty Jack Daniels bottles.”
A smile crept onto my lips. “Right. And crumpled up McDonald’s bags.”
“Three weeks old,” he chuckled.
I shoved his shoulder and laughed. “So it’s a good thing they didn’t stop. You might have had to lecture them about sanitation.”
Quinn liked things clean. Squeaky clean. To be honest, I do too, so his quest to keep the germs away was okay with me.
Ruby chirped a few times, hopped down to the floor of the cage, and cocked her head in my direction. We’d turned off the AC and opened the sliding glass door to let in the cool morning breeze. She’d been chattering all morning, but this was something new.
“Want my peepers.”
We stared at her.
“What?” My jaw dropped.
Quinn and I stared at our feathered daughter.
“Want my peepers.”
“Did she really say that?” Quinn whispered.
I loosed a low whistle. “Whoa. I believe she wants her glasses.”
Quinn walked to the cage, his lips parted in surprise. “She’s sounding more and more like your mother.”
I scrunched my face. “I know. It’s so weird. Why is she suddenly spouting all of Thelma’s phrases?”
“Maybe she misses your mother?” His eyes filled with skepticism. “Or not.” Quinn swung by the table and took another swig of coffee.
I followed him and ate the last strawberry. “Either way, I hope she doesn’t say too much to the judge. If she’s really starting to take after Thelma, she might insult Judge Lopez. Badly.”
He choked on his coffee, guffawed. “Oh God. What an image. My sweet little bird telling off the judge.”
“Just imagine, ‘you’re too fat,’ or ‘you have bad breath’,” I said.
“Maybe we should teach her to kiss-up.” He walked to the cage again. “Nice judge. Pretty judge.”
Ruby cocked her head and chirped. “Pretty judge.”
I sidled up to him and slid my arm around his waist. “Careful, hon. That’ll only work if the judge is a lady.”
He chuckled. “You’re right. But I’m pretty sure she’s Mrs. Lopez. Some famous birder from Texas.”
“Good.” I glanced at my watch. “Well, we’ve got to be there in an hour. Let’s brush our teeth and get down there.”
Chapter 9
We found our assigned spot in the middle of the show hall. Ruby’s cage, number 232, was the last in the row on a narrow table about fifty feet from the judge’s station against the back wall. A gold tablecloth flowed over the table to the floor. Folding chairs—two per cage—were tucked neatly beneath the table. Mrs. Juanita Lopez, the well-renowned bird expert from Texas, sat on a circular raised platform in the center of the show hall, where she fiddled behind a desk with a PC that probably displayed critical data related to class schedules and entrants. And who knew? Maybe she was playing solitaire in her spare time before the show geared up.
A board of ribbons and trophies was set to one side of the judge’s station, sparkling in the light and taunting the would-be winners. The ribbons featured rosettes of satin and lace with delicate bird designs drawn in silver ink. It looked particularly nice on the blue ribbons, which I eyed and pictured mounted over our mantle at home.
Quinn settled Ruby in the show cage, filled her water, and fussed around with the setup, smoothing her feathers and talking baby talk to her. I was so used to his smoochie ways that I didn’t even raise an eyebrow. I tucked her carrying cage beneath the table and smoothed out the tablecloth.
Several hundred entrants went through the process of readying their birds. From parakeets to parrots, lovebirds to cockatiels, the show hall filled with a cacophony of shrieks and cries, underpinned by the muttering of doting owners, most decked out in clothes more suitable for a fancy ball than a bird show. Some of the women wore gowns; many of the men strutted in tuxedos. Quinn had taken the conservative road, with a white shirt and navy blue suit accompanied by a red and orange bolo to match Ruby’s feathers. I’d bought it for him online at a Navajo store, where they displayed beautiful handmade wares, each that would have looked fantastic on my husband’s smooth chest. I wore a cream-colored linen jacket and slacks, with a royal blue crepe blouse. I fingered the opal at my neck and watched the room fill with perfumed and starched owners.
Mrs. Lopez wore a magenta silk dress that swirled and rippled over her ample body when she moved. Her feet were stuffed into bright pink pumps that looked a size too small. Crystal earrings sparkled from her ears beneath a neatly bobbed cap of dark hair. She studied the computer screen, peering through gold-framed round spectacles.
Several bright spotlights illuminated the stage where she sat. Overhead fluorescents lit the remainder of the hall.
“What time’s her class again?” Quinn asked for the tenth time.
I checked the schedule again, although I’d memorized the whole thing. But nerves pushed the details out of my head and I blanked.
“Let’s see.” I ran my fingers down the list. “Here we are. Best New Color, 11:20.”
He checked his watch, looking at the stage. “Good. At least we’re up before lunch. Once we get through with her class, we can get out of here.” He tugged at his collar. “I can’t stand being trussed up like this.”
I nodded. “I know, honey. I’d rather be in jeans and sneakers, too. But we’ll be done soon, and maybe we’ll be walking away with that blue ribbon over there.”
He smiled. “Even if we don’t, I’m sure she’ll place in the top three. Did you see the competition?”
I hadn’t noticed, but scanned the area for our competitors.
“There,” Quinn said, pointing to a handsome man in a blue chambray shirt who sat four cages down. “See that bluish-purple bird?” He spoke softly and didn’t stare, just casually cast his eyes about the room. “That’s probably our number o
ne competitor. Guy’s name is Ken Ramirez. Looks like an amazing new color, too.”
I nodded. “I noticed some little canaries that were Ruby’s color on the way in. Really pretty.”
“I know. But they aren’t her breed. So it doesn’t count.”
“Gotcha,” I said. I let Quinn tend to the details in this world. I had enough on my plate with our antique store and the estates I’d been lining up for the past month. I’d hoped to bid on the contents of a number of luxurious old homes in Canandaigua. I’d keep the best pieces for our shop in Honeoye and unload the rest in tag sales.
Quinn’s leg pumped up and down, a sign that his jitters were escalating. He smoothed Ruby’s feathers a thousand times and craned his neck to see over the crowd gathered in front of the judge.
“I’m going up front to watch this class. Can you keep an eye on her?” he asked.
I knew it would be good for him to get up and move. “Sure, hon. Go ahead.”
I sat on the uncomfortable metal chair and looked at the schedule for the millionth time.
“Ruby’s a pretty girl,” Ruby shrieked.
I laughed and turned to pay attention to my little friend. “Yes, you are. A little vain, but very pretty.”
“Pretty girl. Pretty girl.”
I opened the cage and stroked her neck. “Yes. Yes. You are. Pretty girl. Now just remember to tell that to the judge.”
“Don’t flip your wig. Get my peepers.”
I laughed, causing several heads to turn. I bent closer to the cage and whispered. “Ruby? Are you trying to turn into my mother? Jeepers. This is getting a little eerie.”
A deep voice rumbled behind me. “She has quite a vocabulary, doesn’t she?”
I closed the cage and looked over my shoulder at the man who appeared out of nowhere.
“Yes. She does. She’s always been quite a little talker.”
The heavyset gentleman leaned on a wooden cane, peering at me with coal black eyes. A shock of white hair fringed beneath a black beret that matched his velvet smoking jacket. Because of the proliferation of tuxes in the hall, it seemed oddly appropriate.
“Allow me to introduce myself.” He stretched one jeweled hand toward me, as if he wanted me to kneel and kiss it. At the last minute, he turned it sideways. I reached for it and clasped it for a second. “Earl Tiramisu,” he said.
My brow furrowed.
“Yes, just like the dessert,” he said. A thin smile stretched his lips, but no warmth flowed from his eyes.
“Pleased to meet you,” I said. “Marcella Hollister.”
He stepped slowly toward the cage and peered at Ruby. “Lovely bird.”
“Thank you.”
“Does she have any problems?”
“Excuse me?”
“You know, behavioral issues?”
“Er… not that I know of. Other than mimicking my mother too much.” I laughed uncomfortably and stood up, looking for Quinn. “Why do you ask?”
He stepped back and grabbed a lapel. “I ask because I’m making appointments for therapy sessions. I’m a pet psychic. I specialize in birds.”
“Really?” I raised one eyebrow. “You read bird’s thoughts?”
“So to speak, my dear. And I’m nearly booked solid, but thought I’d offer you a slot.”
“Why?”
My boldness surprised him a bit. He stuttered, then answered slowly.
“I walk the cages and see which birds seem to call out to me. This one seemed most urgent. She has something she wants to say, something she can’t find the words for.”
“How strange.” I put my hands on my hips and peered at Ruby. “Are you hiding something, girl? Is there something you wanna tell us?”
He started to walk away, flipping a hand at me. “I’m sorry for intruding. Forgive me.”
“Wait! It could be fun. Why don’t you put us on your schedule?”
He stopped and turned with a half smile. “As you wish. I’ll see you in room 504 at 10:15 tomorrow morning, if that will suit you.”
“Sure. We’ll be there. Thanks.”
I wasn’t sure why I suddenly decided to play his game, but a quirky urge to see what he did had come over me. I just hoped Quinn wouldn’t care.
Quinn returned, rubbing his hands on his trousers. “It’s time. Come on. Let’s bring her up.”
Quinn unlocked the cage and carefully coaxed her onto his arm. One hand gently held her in place as we walked to the center of the hall and found her freshly disinfected judging cage. Four competitors walked their birds to the front as well. None of the birds sported Ruby’s color. Some were banded, mottled, pastel colors. I scanned them—all were lovely—but I thought our biggest competitor would be the indigo-colored male with the red beak.
Ruby’s cage was directly beside his. She hopped to the side of her cage and began to make cooing noises at him.
“Pretty girl,” she said.
He responded with, “Good boy.”
They’d gotten their sexes mixed up, but the intent of their sweet talk was clear.
The judge walked from cage to cage, peering inside and marking notes on her pad of paper. She clucked at the entrants, made kissing noises at them, walked back and forth along the row, and then repeated it all over again.
She returned to her desk, made a few entries on the computer, and then approached the awards board, taking down the blue, red, and yellow ribbons.
The woman knew how to stretch out the dramatics. She walked the line again, almost put the yellow on Ruby’s cage, but stopped and frowned. With a flourish, she placed it on the cage with the pale green bird with the yellow band around his neck. A small round of applause rose from the gathered audience. Quinn grabbed my hand and squeezed.
“This is it,” he whispered. “Say a little prayer.”
The judge held the red ribbon up and walked the row again, stirring up the crowd. I held my breath, surprised at my level of excitement.
With another dramatic flourish, she started to place the ribbon on Ruby’s cage, then at the last moment attached it to the purple bird’s cage. The blue went to Ruby, and a cheer went up along with a disappointed groan from the handsome owner of purple boy.
“Gadzooks,” Ruby said.
“Good boy,” purple boy said.
The judge laughed, turning to address the crowd.
“Thank you, folks, for the lovely assortment of colors you’ve presented today. Each was special, and deserves to be recognized. Unfortunately, I can only reward three of them. But I’d like to encourage you to continue showing and come back next year with your new colors.”
Quinn’s clear eyes shone with excitement, the kind of joy I hadn’t seen in a while. I watched him shake the judge’s hand and that of purple boy’s owner. He stood tall and proud, looking extremely sexy in his blue suit. A surge of affection rushed through me. He was a damned good man, even with his little idiosyncrasies. In that moment, I knew I was supremely fortunate to have married him.
I moved through the crowd to slip my arm through his. “Congratulations, honey.” I rose up on my tiptoes to peck his cheek.
Mr. Tiramisu stood nearby, wobbling on his cane. He nodded as if to offer congratulations, and I fluttered a “thank you” wave.
Quinn moved forward to get Ruby, and we returned to our station. I hung the ribbon on her travel cage, and we walked her back through the most crowded part of the hall to show her off.
A series of congratulations came from people we’d never met. At the end of the hall, I nearly bumped into a shaggy blond man who seemed completely out of place. With a start, I recognized him as one of the white truck cowboys. I stopped and stared, ready to confront him. But he avoided my gaze and pushed past us.
I swiveled around to watch him leave. “Quinn. Isn’t that—”
“Huh?” His attention was still on Ruby.
I shook my head. “Never mind. Come on, let’s just get Ruby back to the room.”
Chapter 10
I slid the
key card into the slot and the LED flickered green. “Ladies first,” I said, gesturing to Ruby. Quinn carefully maneuvered her cage through the door and stopped dead.
“Good Lord.”
I looked over his shoulder and uttered a sharp cry.
Clothes were strewn over the floor and bed, and drawers lay tipped upside down. My cosmetic case had been unzipped and dumped onto the coffee table. Lipstick and mascara were scattered across the carpet. I edged past Quinn and started to pick up the mess. “My God! I can’t believe this.”
He touched my shoulder. “Wait. Shouldn’t we notify someone?” He set Ruby’s cage on the floor near the unlit fireplace and ran his fingers through his hair. “Hotel security? The cops?”
I stopped and thought about it. We’d probably been vandalized because the thief knew we’d be at the show. They must’ve had access to the guests’ events schedule, and coordinated their break-ins accordingly. Maybe several rooms had been burgled.
I stopped and let my lipstick drop back to the floor. “You’re right. Let’s call Cromwell and see what to do.”
“Did they take anything?” Quinn asked, looking around at the scattered contents of the closet and bureaus. Even the bedclothes had been ripped from the mattress.
“I don’t know. Let me check my jewelry box.” I skittered to the closet where I’d stuffed the little wooden box in which I always carried my earrings and the few pieces of jewelry of any value. I wasn’t much of a silver and gold girl, but I really loved pearls and opals.
“Oh, thank God. They didn’t take Gramma’s pearls.” I held up the necklace my grandmother had left me in her last days. The heart disease had hit her late in life with no warning. At least none that she’d shared with us. One day she’d fallen and passed out. Within a month, she was gone.
“Good,” Quinn went for the phone and dialed the concierge, telling him the whole story. He listened for a moment, nodded into the receiver, and hung up. “They’ll be right up.”
I perched on the edge of the loveseat and felt tremors invade my arms and legs. A delayed reaction, it took me a minute to absorb what had happened. “How did they get in here, anyway?” I hopped up and checked the connecting door to Thelma’s room. It was still locked.
Tall Pines Mysteries: A Mystery/Suspense Boxed Set Page 5
